


Get Out

by Setaeru



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Dom Castiel, Dom/sub, M/M, Mobster Castiel, Serial Killers, Stalking, Sub Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setaeru/pseuds/Setaeru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean sells a bunch of serial killer related items to a mysterious blue-eyed man. Then he starts popping up everywhere.<br/>--<br/><i>Dean felt his face warm up and cursed himself for letting his eyes drop down to Castiel's rough, pink lips. He inhaled shakily and forced himself to step back and begin putting his shoes on. "You're not hot," he muttered, trying to ignore the flutters in his belly. "You're just old and grumpy."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be tiny snippets of dean and cas and the weird shit cas buys but then something happened… help... also pls ignore the summary bc i know _i know_
> 
> trash writer here reporting that this fic is gon be full of mistakes and grossness ty enjoy

Dean slumped onto the counter, resting his face on his closed fist. He lazily scrolled through Twitter, reading Charlie’s excited tweets about the new Star Wars trailer that had been released. He jumped as items banged onto the counter and lifted his head, frowning.

“I would like to purchase these items,” the man across the counter said, his voice deep and rough. Dean swallowed and nodded, looking the guy over as he began scanning his items. He was pretty hot, with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. He seemed to have a fit body beneath his black dress shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow and the collar undone, and dark blue suspenders. Dean couldn’t tell if he was wearing jeans or dress pants but he hoped it was the latter.

Dean glanced down at the items as he put them in bags, confused as to why the man was buying a three pack of duct tape, a box of large garbage bags and three long rolls of the clear plastic sheets that painters used to protect furniture and floors. Dean didn’t bother opening his mouth to question the man; the guy seemed creepy and he could be a Dexter wannabe in action; Dean didn’t feel like dying today.

Dean rang the order up and opened his mouth to ask what the guy would like to pay with but was cut off as the man slapped two one hundred dollar bills onto the counter and grabbed his bags. “D-du-dude,” Dean stammered. “This is two hundred dollars!”

“Keep the extra, then,” he said over his shoulder, strolling out the automatic doors of the hardware store. Dean huffed with disbelief, staring down at the two bills in his hand. He paid the order and stared at the change, glancing around discreetly before tucking it into his pocket. No one had to know, right? Besides, the guy said he could keep the money. It’s not like he was stealing it from anyone.

In the end, Dean was just glad that the guy had been wearing black dress pants and not jeans with his outfit.

* * *

Dean wished an old man a happy day as he picked his bags up and began to walk away. The man nodded in return, offering him a slight smile, and disappeared out the automatic store doors.

“Good afternoon,” he said, turning to the next person in line. He froze at the deep blue gaze that greeted him, swallowing nervously. He glanced down at the items on the conveyor belt, eyebrows furrowing with confusion. “How are you?” he asked politely, beginning to scan the items.

“Fine,” the man muttered, crossing his arms and watching Dean scan the first item, another roll of clear plastic sheets. Dean stayed quiet, putting in the code for a heavy bundle of steel chain and setting it to the side, knowing that if he bothered putting it in a plastic bag it would just fall through the bottom. The next item was a hammer and the last item was a box of 100 4 inch long hardware nails.

“That’ll be-” Dean was cut off as the man slapped another two hundred dollars onto the table and grabbed his items, walking away. “Dude. What the fuck,” Dean said.

The man paused and turned around, looking at Dean’s face then sizing him up, lingering on his waistline. “Go buy yourself another pair of black lace panties,” the man smirked, winking and turning away, leaving through the automatic doors before Dean could even stammer out a reply.

_Go buy yourself **another** pair of black lace panties._

Another pair of black… lace… panties…

Dean had been wearing a cute pair of black lace panties last night.

When he’d teased and edged himself for two hours in the confines of his room.

Door locked and towel tucked at the bottom.

Window locked and drapes closed.

Dean swallowed thickly, heart struggling to beat properly.

This was fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments and kudos make me happy! <3
> 
> i haz a [tumblr](http://twxnkdean.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bc im trash for comments as we all know

****

Dean sniffed thickly, wrinkling his sore nose as he walked down the short path from his house to the driveway. He had a small cold, but it should be gone by the afternoon if his medicine worked properly. He unlocked his car and slipped inside the black 1967 Chevy Impala. His gas-guzzling Baby.

His ten year old brother Sam walked down the path after a few moments, holding their thirteen month old brother Adam in his arms. Dean watched as Sam tucked Adam into his car seat at the back, buckling him in securely, and then climbed into the passenger seat. “Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said, coughing into his elbow and groaning at the headache he felt building.

“Sure,” Sam handed him a Kleenex, waiting for Dean to start the car. Dean tucked the Kleenex into his pocket, deciding he didn’t need it at the moment, and started the car. He let it idle for a second then changed gears and backed out onto the road when he was sure no one was coming.

He changed gears again and straightened the car, driving down the road to the stop sign at the end of their block. He waited for a car to pass then turned right and started driving towards Prosperity Middle School. It was a short drive and Sam could have easily walked it in about ten minutes but it was cold outside and Dean didn’t have much to do today anyways.

Dean pulled up to the curb beside the school, watching Sam grab his bag. “See ya,” Sam said, opening the door and stepping out. “Bye Adam!”

“Bai, bai!” Adam giggled, waving excitedly at Sam.

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said quickly. “You need me to pick you up from the library later?”

“Uh,” Sam paused, thinking. “I could probably just get a ride with Jess’ parents.”

“Alright,” Dean shrugged. “I won’t be home tonight. I’ll leave your dinner in the oven, okay?” Sam nodded and gave him a thumbs up, slamming the door shut and waving at them one last time before turning and jogging into the school. Dean sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, sniffing thickly.

“Just you and me, bud,” Dean said to Adam, smiling as his little brother giggled happily from the backseat. Dean pulled away from the curb and exited the small parking lot, heading towards the daycare he’d found a long time ago for Adam.

It was barely another five minutes from the middle school. It was small and only had a handful of kids, but it was a good place and Dean knew Missouri personally; she was great with all the little monsters that crowded into her house.

Dean pulled into her driveway, turning the car off and slipping out. He jogged around to the other side and opened the back door, tickling Adam purposely as he unbuckled him. He smiled as his brother squealed with delight and picked him up, holding him close and kicking the door shut. Adam snuggled into his chest, continuously patting his chest with his hand.

Dean walked up the stone path to the front door of the house, knocking and opening the door, stepping inside and removing his shoes. He crouched down and set Adam on his knee, pulling his small shoes off and setting them on the shelf in the corner. He tugged off his little light blue jacket and stood up, holding Adam with one arm and hanging up the coat.

Dean shuffled into the kitchen where he knew Missouri was waiting for him. He froze at the dark haired man sitting at one of the island chairs, typing a message on his phone. Normally, Dean wouldn’t care if there was another person in Missouri’s house, there had been plenty of men in here before.

No.

The problem was that this man was the same man that had dropped by the hardware store for his weird Dexter items.

The man looked up and smiled, looking at Adam and ignoring Dean. He stood and walked over, reaching a hand out and gently poking Adam’s chubby cheek. Adam giggled and grabbed the man’s index finger, tugging it close and biting it.

The man lifted his eyes and looked at Dean, amused. “Hello,” he said, carefully pulling his finger away from Adam and wiping the saliva on his pants. “Dean, wasn’t it?”

“Uhm,” Dean stepped back, swallowing nervously. “Yeah. Dean.” He looked around, wondering where Missouri was and why the fuck she wasn’t here. He could hear the other children here playing loudly in the other room, fighting over who gets to do what first.

“And who’s this little guy?” The man asked, turning his attention back to Adam. “Your son? You seem a little too young.”

“He’s… he’s my brother,” Dean said, holding Adam tighter. Adam squirmed in his arms, confused as he looked between Dean and the mysterious man continuously.

“Mm,” the man nodded. “What’s the, ah, age difference between the two of you?”

“About twenty-one years,” Dean said. “Give or take a few months.”

“I see, I see,” the man stepped back and slid his hands into his dress pants pockets, thumbs hooked over to the top. He was wearing another black dress shirt today, but this time he had dark red suspenders on; and Dean could see a trench coat with red flannel lining inside and under the collar resting on another island chair.

“What’s your name?” Dean dared to ask. Adam squirmed more and made a noise of distress, tugging at Dean’s shirt. Dean looked down at him, frowning at the pouting face. “What’s up?”

“Pee,” he whispered shyly, hiding his face in Dean’s shoulder. “I pee.”

“My name is Castiel,” the man replied, rocking on his heels and the balls of his feet. Dean sighed and checked Adam’s diaper, finding it was discolored.

“Castiel, what?” Dean asked, turning and beginning to walk to the change room Missouri had created a long time ago. Castiel trailed behind him, silent. Dean didn’t push him to reply, but he did find it odd that Castiel was coming with him to watch him change Adam’s diaper.

Dean opened the changing room door and paused, finding Missouri standing over the changing table where a little girl squirmed around. “Hey,” he greeted, stepping into the room and tensing as Castiel did as well, shutting the door and pressing his chest against Dean’s left shoulder.

“Hello, Dean,” Missouri said, looking up and smiling at him. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Dean said, walking over to her and the little girl. “Who’s this cute little thing?” Dean gently tickled the girl’s neck, smiling as she giggled and tried to push his fingers away.

“This is Claire. She’s nine months old,” Missouri nodded towards where Castiel stood by the door. “She’s with him.”

Dean frowned but didn’t reply to that, instead waited for Missouri to pick Claire up before setting Adam down on the table. Missouri handed him Claire, who he cradled carefully to his chest. Claire frowned up at him, poking his cheek and squinting at his face. She giggled suddenly and grabbed his shirt, pulling him in for a hug. Dean smiled and let her hug his neck and face, turning to face Castiel as Missouri started changing Adam.

Dean walked over to Castiel and gently pulled Claire away from him, holding her out to Castiel. The man huffed a laugh and raised a brow at him, opening the door to the changing room. “Hold her, and follow me,” he said. “Goodbye, Missouri,” he stepped out of the room.

“Bye,” came the reply from behind him.

Dean pulled Claire back against his chest and frowned, stepping out of the room as well and glancing down at the hall, watching Castiel walk into the kitchen. “I’ll see you later, Missouri,” Dean said.

“Bye, Dean,” she said. Dean shut the door and walked down the hall, bouncing Claire a little and grinning as she giggled and squirmed in his arms happily.

“Your daddy is hot and scary,” Dean whispered to her. “And mean, huh? Won’t even hold you. It’s okay, though,” Dean cooed. “I’ve got you.”

“Mean? No,” Dean tensed and spun around, swallowing as he took in the way Castiel’s coat hung off his shoulders. “Scary? Yes.” Castiel stepped much too close for comfort, smirking at Dean arrogantly. His smirk became a soft smile when he took Claire from Dean though, and Dean decided he couldn’t be that scary if he was capable of smiling like that. Castiel leaned close again, merely inches from Dean’s face. “Hot? Thank you.”

Dean felt his face warm up and cursed himself for letting his eyes drop down to Castiel’s rough, pink lips. He inhaled shakily and forced himself to step back and begin putting his shoes on. “You’re not hot,” he muttered, trying to ignore the flutters in his belly. “You’re just old and grumpy.”

“I’m not old,” Castiel actually sounded offended. “I may be grumpy, however.” Dean smiled slightly at that and opened the door, shivering at the cold air that greeted them as they stepped out. Dean shut the door and quickly headed towards his car, hoping Castiel wouldn’t be even creepier and follow him.

Dean noticed him cutting across the lawn and sighed with relief, quickly opening the door and slipping inside the slightly warmer car. Dean turned it on and revved the engine, checking his mirrors. He groaned when he noticed there was a huge black SUV behind him on the long driveway. Castiel was handing Claire to another man that… looked exactly like him except kinder and not as emo looking? Dean cursed loudly, suddenly realizing that Castiel had a twin and this twin was probably the girl’s real father.

Dean beeped accidentally and winced when the two men turned towards him and Claire started crying. _Fuck,_ he thought. _Sorry, Claire._ Dean watched from his mirrors as the twin got in the car, soothing Claire the best his could and Castiel turned and began walking towards him. _Fuck, fuck, fuckitty, fuck._

Dean froze as his passenger door opened and Castiel slipped inside, slamming the door shut. The SUV behind Dean began to back out of the driveway. Castiel turned to stare at him, expressionless. “That was very rude of you, Dean,” he said slowly, sounding disappointed. “Not only did you cut my conversation short, you upset Claire.”

“Sorry?” Dean tried weakly, wincing and turning his face away. “I, uh, actually didn’t mean to hit the horn.”

“Hmm,” Castiel turned away and relaxed. “Drive.”

“I’m not… I’m not your chauffeur! I don’t even know you, man. Get out,” Dean said, gripping the bottom of the steering wheel to try to curb some of his anxiety. He wondered if the Dexter wannabe would murder him for being rude.

“Dean,” Castiel growled, angry. “Drive the fucking car or I will.” Dean squirmed at the swear and obediently put the car in reverse, rolling slowly down the driveway and checking for cars coming. There were none so he rolled onto the road then changed gears again, turning and heading down the block. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“What the hell do you want from me?” Dean asked, wondering where the fuck he was supposed to go.

“You’re treading on very thin ice, Dean. I don’t want to have to punish you before we even have a proper conversation. Ask me nicely and I’ll consider answering you,” Castiel said, sounding irritated. Dean swallowed thickly and gripped the steering wheel tighter, refusing to repeat his question. Punish him? Fuck that. He wasn’t letting Castiel do shit to him.

“Get the fuck out,” Dean pulled up beside a curb and stopped the car. Castiel didn’t move, so neither did he. “Get out,” he repeated.

“I see you’re going to be difficult. Such a shame,” Castiel sighed and opened his door, stepping out onto the grass. He leaned back in and stuck his head in the car, waiting until Dean turned to face him to speak. “Prepare yourself, Dean. I’ll see you tonight. Nine o’clock, sharp,” he straightened and slammed the door shut, turning on his heel and walking back in the direction of Missouri’s house.

Dean snarled and hit the wheel. _Fuck him,_ Dean thought bitterly. He didn’t fucking know him and he wasn’t going to care about what he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments make me happy! <3
> 
> i haz a [tumblr](http://twxnkdean.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh look... more trash
> 
> ok but rly i should stop updating so much i'm running out of fic lmfao

Dean shuffled into the house around twelve o’clock that night, groaning softly and shutting the door. He leaned against it as he turned the locks then held the handle while he kicked his shoes off. Dean pulled his jacket off and set it on one of the hooks.

Dean stumbled to the side and fell onto his hands and knees. He winced and slowly stood, padding into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He swayed the whole way there, regretting getting as drunk as he did. He didn’t have work tomorrow but he still didn’t want to feel like shit for at least half of Saturday; it was one of the few days he got to spend with Sam.

Dean quickly filled a glass with water and drank it all, placing the glass in the sink when he finished. Dean walked around the house slowly, checking all the windows and doors. Once he was sure they were all locked, he turned the lights off and carefully walked up the stairs. Dean nearly fell twice but he made it to the top.

He padded towards his room, squinting in the dark hallway. Dean opened his door, covering a yawn with his hand, and stepped inside. He pushed the door shut and turned the lock, leaning back against the hard wood. He groaned and slowly slid down to the floor, curling his knees close to his chest and resting his head on them and closing his eyes.

Dean leaned forward, dropping to his knees, and crawled towards his bed. He reached up and grabbed the smooth fabric of his comforter, pulling himself up and moving forward. He froze as his face bumped into something hard. Dean slowly opened his eyes, staring at a red piece of fabric, vibrant against black.

Dean leaned back and looked at where his hand was. He was holding onto a black dress shirt. Dean gulped nervously and finally lifted his eyes to the face of the man he’d nearly crawled onto. Dean flinched at the angry blue eyes that greeted him, immediately letting go of the dress shirt and stumbling backwards, falling onto his ass.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, sounding painfully blank.

“Jesus fuck,” he rasped, clutching at his chest and breathing for a second. Dean’s hands shook as he crawled backwards hastily, his back hitting the door with a dull thud. Dean looked around for something to use as a weapon but couldn’t see anything within grabbing distance. “What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I told you I would come see you tonight at 9 o’clock. I came in through the front door and have been waiting here for the last three hours and fifteen minutes,” Castiel said, slowly standing from Dean’s bed and pacing the room with near silent steps. “I’m very disappointed in you, Dean. I had assumed you would be good from the few times I’ve watched you-” did he just admit to stalking Dean? “-but it seems I was terribly wrong.”

“Great. Good for that. Get out,” Dean snapped. He was way too fucking drunk to deal with this. At least he wasn’t slurring though. Castiel clucked his tongue and sat down on the bed again, sighing with regret. “What?”

“Come here, Dean,” Castiel said, gesturing Dean over with his hand. Dean didn’t move. Castiel’s face darkened. Dean scrambled away from the door and stood, stumbling towards Castiel. He stood in front of him, confused and tired. “Are you drunk?” Castiel asked, brows furrowing as he seemed to realize Dean smelled like a brewery.

“Maybe,” he muttered.

“Fuck,” Castiel sighed again. He stood and pushed Dean away, snatching up his coat from Dean’s desk chair and turning to his bedroom door. “Tomorrow night. Ten o’clock. If you know what’s good for you, Dean, you’ll be here.” Castiel unlocked then opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, shutting the door before walking away.

Dean groaned pitifully, wanting to yank the door open and follow Castiel out to the front door to make sure he was really leaving. Instead, he stumbled towards his door and locked it, yanking his clothes off before falling into his already turned down bed. He didn’t remember turning it down. Come to think of it, he didn’t remember making his bed this morning. Nor did he remember using, let alone owning, these silk blue sheets. Maybe Castiel had fixed his bed? Probably. He couldn’t bring himself to care

Dean squirmed around underneath them, shivering with delight as he slipped easily through. He was actually quite glad Castiel had changed his sheets with these ones, they were so nice. Dean yawned and reached up and turned his nightstand light off, curling up and closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments make me happy! <3
> 
> i haz a [tumblr](http://twxnkdean.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys guys guys look! more trash fic!!!!!!!!!
> 
> i actually forgot this story existed tbh gg

Dean paced nervously, running his hands through his hair and repeatedly adjusting his clothing; simple old blue jeans and a black Led Zeppelin t-shirt and a pair of purple lace boyshort panties. There was just under five minutes left until ten o’clock and Dean was scared while he waited for Castiel to show up.

It had been a good day, he’d spent most of it with Sam and Adam but had managed to catch his dad for about thirty minutes before the old man had said goodnight and stumbled to his bedroom. Dean had been stressing about tonight though, when Castiel would show up and... and... he didn’t know what would happen after that.

Everyone was currently asleep or locked in their rooms so it would be okay if Castiel came through the front door again. He just hoped he was quiet about it all.

The door creaked open and Dean tensed, spinning around and staring wide-eyed as Castiel stepped into his bedroom. He was wearing a pair of worn and ripped light blue jeans and a loose white t-shirt. Dean swallowed and shuffled backwards nervously, watching Castiel shut the door. Castiel didn’t stop looking at him once the whole time.

Dean froze up, knees hitting the side of his bed. “So,” he tried, voice trembling. Castiel raised an eyebrow and Dean kept his mouth shut. Castiel locked the door and approached him, stopping barely two inches in front of him. Dean shifted on his feet, trying to breathe normally and failing miserably, rough and shaky breaths coming in and going out of his mouth and nose.

Castiel suddenly moved, pushing Dean onto the bed and climbing on top of him, straddling his hips. Dean gulped, tensed beneath him, arms trapped at his sides and between Castiel’s knees. “Tilt your head back,” Castiel said quietly, eyes dark and the corners of his lips lifted up into a menacing smile. Dean let out a heavy breath and slowly pressed his head back into the sheets, closing his eyes.

He swallowed weakly, thickly; painfully aware of Castiel’s eyes on his vulnerable throat. He had to have seen him swallow. He should be able to see the moisture rapidly building along his neck and his face. He should be able to see the unsteady rise and fall of his chest. He might be able to see the strength and quickness of his heartbeat from his partly visible neck veins. He should definitely be able to tell Dean was terrified.

Something warm and wet carefully licked at his throat.

Dean gasped and opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. He held his breath, shivering. Castiel licked at the perspiration building between his collarbones, moving up to his Adam’s apple and then towards his left jugular vein. Dean let the air out of his lungs stiffly and it sounded like a small whimper.

Castiel’s left hand moved up and carefully cradled the back of his neck, somehow forcing him to tilt his head back even more. Castiel suddenly bit deeply into his neck, hard enough that Dean jerked and arched his back. He couldn’t stop the moan that escaped, nor could he prevent the way his cock twitched with interest, pressed up against Castiel.

Castiel froze, then clucked his tongue. He let go of Dean and swiftly stood, adjusting his pants and shirt. Dean sat up quickly, heart clenching tightly in his chest. He stared up at Castiel, confused and wanting, cock hard in his panties. Castiel smiled darkly and licked his lips. “Maybe you are good,” Castiel murmured, sounding rougher than usual. “We’ll have to see.”

Castiel spun on his heel and walked to Dean’s door, unlocking it and opening it. “That’s- that’s it?” Dean blurted, standing up and wincing as his panties tightened. Castiel turned back to him, but Dean couldn’t wait so he quickly tugged at the crotch of his jeans, adjusting the panties and giving himself more room; of course, now his erect cock was more visible.

Castiel’s eyes dropped to his crotch and he chuckled, lifting his eyes again and winking at Dean. “That’s all, Dean,” he said. Castiel stepped out of the room and shut the door before Dean could try to reply or stop him. Dean huffed angrily, plopping down on his bed and glaring at the door. He could go after Castiel but he didn’t want to risk waking anyone up. He had been nervous all day for this? God, he was so fucking dumb. He should've known.

Dean growled to himself and stood, walking forward and yanking open his bedroom door, heading for the bathroom. He stepped inside and shut the door, flicking the light switch on. Dean tilted his head to the side and stared at the teeth marks on the left side of his neck, a couple small dots of blood visible.

Fucking hell.

Dean gingerly wiped away the blood with water, biting his lip to contain any noises that threatened to bubble forth. He pressed his cock against the side of the sink cabinet, shivering. Dean lightly pushed at the bite mark, hissing and rocking his hips forward. Okay, so maybe Dean was a little bit of a masochist, but that didn’t mean anything.

Dean washed his hands and brushed, trying to ignore the relentless ache in his cock. Dean spat out the extra toothpaste and rinsed his brush, setting it in the toothbrush holder beside Sam’s and Adam’s. Dean opened the door and turned the light off, shuffling to his bedroom and locking the door. He quickly stripped out of his clothes, tossing them carelessly to the side.

He dropped onto his bed, laying flat on his back and spreading his legs. Dean breathed slowly and gently cupped himself through his panties. He moaned and bucked up into his hand, closing his eyes. He massaged himself, easing the ache for the moment. He released himself and placed both of his hands on his chest, pressing down and sliding them over his ribs.

Dean stopped at his hips and dug his nails into them, dragging them up to his nipples and scratching over the sensitive buds. He groaned and bucked his hips up into the air, grinding his ass back against the silky sheets. Dean carefully rubbed his hardened nipples, breathing fast and hard.

He wasn’t going to last at all today. He would just have to punish himself by forcing out two extra orgasms after the first.

Dean pinched his nipples, pulling on them and bucking into the air, head pressing back into the sheets. “Fuck,” he rasped, letting go and pressing his hands to the bed. He focused on the dull throb in his nipples, slipping his hands under his ass, the backs of his hands pressed to his fleshy cheeks. Dean slowly wiggled his hips, whining lowly as his cock rubbed enticingly against the soft lace.

He let himself lose control of his breath. Dean rocked his hips up, abdominal muscles twitching with his movements. His thighs slowly beginning to tremble as he ground up against the lace.

Dean’s mind drifted to a pair of pretty pink lips wrapped around his cock, stretched wide and obscenely around him. Rough, wet lips surrounded by a healthy amount of dark stubble, leading up to a straight nose and sharp cheekbones. And further to taunting deep blue eyes and dark hair. Dean felt two warm phantom hands rub up and down his sides and thighs, nails teasingly dragging over his hot skin.

“ _Come,_ ” a suspiciously rough and deep voice whispered. Dean whimpered loudly and opened his eyes, hips bucking desperately as he came. Dean wondered if he imagined the deep voice ordering him to come; it had seemed so real. He quivered and pulled his hands out from under his body, grabbing at his twitching cock and pulling it out of his messed panties. Dean quickly jerked himself, slapping a hand over his mouth as desperate noises started to escape. 

Dean whined, eyes burning. He jerked his sensitive cock quickly, arching his back and coming again all over his stomach, a choked moan barely making it out of his mouth. That didn’t take long. Just one more, one more. Dean shakily fucked up into his messy hand, squeezing his eyes shut. He removed his hand from his mouth and grabbed the sheets, pulling the into a tight ball that he could squeezed and hold onto. “Fuck,” he whined, coming for a third time, his semen coming out watery.

Dean slumped back onto the bed, slowly letting go of the sheets. He continued to stroke his cock, milking himself. Dean eventually let go when he felt completely satisfied, dropping his hand onto his stomach, just clear of the mess. He blinked up at the ceiling, uncomfortable with the rapidly drying come but satiated from his three orgasms.

Dean sat up and groaned. Clean up. Then bed.

* * *

Castiel hummed, leaning back and staring down at his tablet. He shifted his legs, reaching down and grabbing his cock through his pants. He groaned softly, closing his eyes. Dean had been so beautiful, coming in his pretty panties. If only he had stayed, maybe then he would have gotten to see it first hand, or even better, be the one to make Dean mess his panties. He would have stayed if he could have but it seemed there were too many incompetent men working for him.

"Come on, Cas," a southern voice drawled, amused. "We don't have time for that."

"Shut up, Benny," he muttered, opening his eyes and turning to glare at his old friend. "Leave me alone."

Benny shrugged. "I just don't understand why you're going through so much trouble for him. Just fuck him and forget about him, like you usually do with your toys," Benny said, studying the live video of Dean snuggling into the dark blue sheets Castiel had bought for him.

"He's different," Castiel said quietly, watching Dean grab the extra pillow on the other side of his large bed and curl up around it. He wanted someone to hold, or maybe hold him. Castiel wondered if he could sneak in during the night and hold him for a while, then decided it wouldn't be a good idea. After he finished this job, he would be watched like a hawk by federal agents and various enemies. He probably wouldn't be able to see Dean in person for quite a while, not without endangering him, of course. Now he really wished he'd stayed longer, teased him more; maybe even kissed him.

"Turn it off, Cas," Benny said, shifting in his seat and pulling his gun out of his pants. "We're almost there."

Castiel stared at Dean for a second longer then sighed and turned the device off, putting the cover over it and tucking tablet under his seat. He pulled out his own gun, checking the magazine. "Let's just get this over with," he muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still not sure abt the castiel/benny part but eh too late gg
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Comments make me happy! <3
> 
> i haz a [tumblr](http://twxnkdean.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i cannot belib... it more trash
> 
> i keep forgetting to update this and im sorry

Dean finished bagging the last item, lifting the bag and setting it to the side. The man handed him a few bills, patiently waiting as Dean quickly got his change. He handed it to the man. “Have a good day,” he said, smiling. “Good afternoon,” he said, hearing another person begin setting their items down on the conveyor belt.

"Good afternoon, Dean," Castiel cooed, stepping in front of him and leaning across the conveyor belt, hands placed on the sides. Dean swallowed, glancing around and finding no one there. "How are you?" His eyes dropped to Dean's neck. A dark smirk appeared as he saw the bruised bite mark that had gotten Dean in a lot of shit with his boss who told him to be more careful next time because no one wanted to see evidence of his sex life.

"F-fine," Dean muttered, shuffling his feet and lowering his head. He quickly began to scan the items on the table, frowning. A power drill, yellow colored, and another roll of that plastic sheet stuff. "What the hell could you want with so much of this?" he muttered to himself, scanning the item.

"It's very helpful," Castiel replied, rocking on the balls of his feet and his heels. "It makes cleanup much easier."

"R-right," he said, not wanting to think about what Castiel would have to clean up. He rang up the price. "Two hundred and seventy-five do-"

"Here," Castiel pulled his wallet out and set five one-hundred dollar bills down. Dean opened his mouth to protest the extra bills, and Castiel lifted his hand and placed a finger on his lips. "Be a good boy and buy a cute little set tonight." He dropped his hand, glancing at the couple walking by with a cart full of items. "I'll see you tomorrow night," he winked and grabbed his things, walking away.

Dean barely held in a whimper and quickly paid the order, holding the extra money in hand nervously. He slipped it into his pocket, adjusting his shirt and looking around. There was no one there. A cute little set? Did he mean a cute set of lingerie? But... what would Dean buy? No! He wasn't buying anything! Not for Castiel. Definitely not. Maybe for himself, though? Yeah, himself. He could buy something cute for himself.

* * *

Dean groaned tiredly, stretching out on his bed and yawning. He arched his back and spread his arms and legs, curling his toes. He sighed and slumped, looking up at the ceiling lazily. He heard his room door being opened and groaned again. "What do you want, Sam?" he asked, closing his eyes and tucking his hands under his head. There was only silence, then the door closed and the lock clicked into place.

Dean froze. Had he really come?

Dean opened his eyes and swallowed, sitting up slowly, using his hands to prop himself up. His eyes widened at the sight of Castiel, leaning back against the door and his arms crossed. He wore slacks today, with a dark red belt, and a simple white button up with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and red suspenders. He held a medium black bag as well. Dean couldn't help but wonder what it was with him and the suspenders. He always had them on.

"Hello, Dean," he finally said, glancing around the room. Dean winced, looking at the clothes and random items tossed everywhere. "Did you buy it?"

Should he... "No," he replied slowly, watching Castiel narrow his eyes. "I didn't."

Castiel tilted his head to the side and squinted at him from across the room. He chuckled suddenly and lowered his arms, casually walking across the room and sitting down at the end of the bed. He set the bag beside himself. "Go get it," he said, reaching into the bag and pulling out two dark wood boxes, one bigger than the other.

Dean's heart began to beat a little faster. "I-I didn't buy it," Dean said, shifting forward and sitting at the foot of the bed as well. He glanced at the boxes, curious.

"Dean," Castiel clucked his tongue. "I know you did. Now, go get it... and I'll let you open one of these."

"Only one?"

Castiel grinned, glancing at him. "You may open the other after you wear it."

Dean bit his lip, squirming a little. He sighed and stood, walking a couple steps away from the bed and turning to face Castiel. The man stared up at him with a raised brow, clearly waiting for him to get the black bag the lingerie had come in.

Dean licked his lips slowly and lifted one of his legs, pulling his sock off one foot and then doing the same to the other foot. He wiggled his toes in the silky soft stockings, looking up and seeing the realization on Castiel's face.

Castiel smiled, soft, and nodded. He lifted the smaller box and held it out to Dean. Dean stepped forward and carefully opened the small latch in the middle of the box, lifting the lid. His eyes widened at the necklace. The chain was black, thin and short, and it connected to small black feather with intricate details.

Castiel lowered his hands and set the box on the bed, leaving it open. He turned back to Dean, glancing at his clothes and waiting. Dean grabbed the hem of his grey shirt, fiddling with it for a second, then breathed deeply and lifted it up and off, tossing it to the side. He resisted the urge to cover himself from Castiel's piercing eyes. Dean grabbed at his jeans, pulling the waist band away from his body as he fumbled with his button and zipper. He opened them and slowly pushed the jeans down his legs, kicking them to the side once they pooled around his ankles.

He was left in a pair of bright pink panties that barely held his cock and balls, black lace garter belt and stockings. He glanced down at the garter belt, the floral see through pattern reveal the small black bows on the sides of his panties. Dean curled his toes and looked up, biting his lip as he took in Castiel's blank expression. Did he not like it? Dean thought it was cute.

He ignored the sharp tingle of fear and regret he felt and shuffled to the side, quickly picking up his jeans and pulling them on, beginning to button them. "What are you doing?" Castiel said quietly. Dean froze, wondering if he was angry. He hadn't sounded angry. Dean zipped up his jeans and turned to look at Castiel, frowning.

"You don't like it," he said, crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to cover himself a little. He glanced over at his shirt, which was across the room now.

"I didn't say anything," Castiel's eyebrows furrowed with confusion. "How can you say that?"

"Your face," Dean shrugged, looking at his feet.

"Well," Castiel hummed. "I like it, Dean." He stood and walked over to Dean, standing a little too close. He slowly reached his hands out and uncrossed Dean's arms, lowering them to his sides. Castiel grasped the waist band of Dean's jeans and unbuttoned them, lowering the zipper slowly. He crouched and tugged the jeans down Dean's legs, pulling them off completely and tossing them across the room.

Castiel looked up at him and grinned, eyes sparkling with amusement and... desire. He stood and walked back to the bed, sitting down. "Come here," Castiel said, picking up the larger box and holding it out in front of himself again.

Dean walked over to him, reaching for the box slowly. He undid the small latch and lifted the lid, frowning with confusion at the object within. It was sitting on a cushion covered in a silky black fabric. Dean looked up at Castiel, tilting his head with a silent question. Castiel grinned. He pulled the box towards himself and turned it around. He pulled the object out and set the box to the side, holding it in his hands.

"What..." Dean licked his lips. "Is that... for me... to wear?"

"Yes," Castiel said, looking down at the item. "Kneel." Dean hesitated. " _Now._ " He dropped to his knees carefully, shivering at the dark tone; there had been something odd to his voice when he'd said it, almost like an accent, but Dean wasn't sure. "Good, Dean. Very good," Castiel hummed, fiddling with the item and opening it.

He reached towards Dean, using two fingers to tilt his head back and expose his neck. Dean gulped, the action difficult with his head tilted back. Castiel placed the item around his neck, securing it in the front and placing his hands on Dean's bare shoulders. His thumbs stroked over Dean's collarbones, a teasing touch that tickled and made goosebumps break out all over his skin.

"Do you like it, Dean?" Castiel asked softly.

Dean looked up, finding that Castiel was gazing at his neck with a fascinated expression. "I can't see it," he tried weakly. Castiel smiled slowly, his lips quirking up with amusement. "I feel a bit like a dog."

"A dog?" Castiel mused, tilting his head. "No." He lifted one hand, wrapping it around the back of Dean's neck. "You're more like a cat." He lifted his eyes to look Dean in the eye. A piercing blue stare full of pure want that cut straight through Dean and made his cock twitch painfully in his panties.

"Right," Dean lowered his head, looking down at his legs. "A collared cat."

"Tamed," Castiel added. "One collar is for private, and one is for public." So the other necklace was as much of a collar for Dean as this one was; this thin, dark brown strip of leather held tightly around his neck with a medium sized gold buckle. "I'm going to ask you one last time, Dean. You don't have to answer." Dean tensed, waiting. "Do you like the collar?"

Dean kept his mouth shut.

Castiel waited one second, two seconds, three seconds, then sighed. He lifted his other hand off Dean's shoulder and cupped his face, rubbing his thumb gently over Dean's cheekbone. "You'll grow to like them eventually," Castiel said, quietly. The hand on the neck of Dean's neck slid up further and ran through his hair, nails gently scraping at his scalp, sending shivers down his spine. Dean closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his head against the hand cupping his face.

A sharp buzzing filled the silence in the room, making them both jump with surprise. Castiel pulled away from him, and Dean just barely held in a groan of protest. Castiel reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out, clicking a few buttons on it. His eyes widened and he stood abruptly, stepping around Dean. He clicked a few more buttons then held the phone up to his ear, beginning to pace. Dean turned around and stood slowly, shaking his legs and sitting on the bed where Castiel had just been.

He wanted to ask what was wrong but Castiel didn't seem like he would answer him. Castiel continued to pace, growing more and more frustrated as no one seemed to pick up the phone. He pulled it away and clicked more buttons, no doubt hanging up and recalling. He pressed the phone to his ear again, letting out a heavy breath of relief after a moment.

"Benny," he said quickly. "Clear out. They know." He then started speaking in a different language, glancing at Dean every few seconds, clearly angry. Dean knew it wasn't directed at him but couldn't help but feel a tingle of fear anyways.

Dean sighed and tuned Castiel out, lifting his hand and touching the collar snugly wrapped around his neck. It was weird, it felt so odd to wear, but he kind of liked the feel of it. It wasn't tight enough to choke him, or hurt him, but it was tight enough that he felt it with every little movement, every breath.

"Dean." He looked up at Castiel, raising an eyebrow. "May I stay here?" Castiel ran a hand through his hair, lips pressed thinly together and brows furrowed with frustration. "Just... to sleep."

"Okay," Dean said momentarily. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why do you need to stay here? What did you do?"

"Is it odd for me to just want to be around you longer?"

"Yes," Dean said, squinting slightly. "I guess?" He shrugged. "Did you kill someone?"

Castiel let out a breathy laugh, looking away and shaking his head a little. "I've killed many people, Dean," he said, turning to look at Dean with sharp eyes. "Does that bother you?"

"Yes, a little," he admitted. He knew Castiel was a killer. He fucking knew it. He was also more bothered by the fact he didn't care, not really. Sure, he felt bad for the people Castiel had killed but he didn't care that Castiel was the one that killed them.

"Good," Castiel's lips quirked up. "It means you're something I'm not."

"And that is?"

Castiel shrugged and walked closer. He pressed a hand to Dean's chest, pushing him back onto the bed, and straddled his hips. He leaned down, eyes sparkling. His nose bumped lightly against Dean's and they both became a little cross-eyed at the closeness. "Human," he murmured.

"You're plenty human," Dean replied.

"Physically, perhaps." Castiel sat up. "Mentally? Emotionally? Very doubtful." Castiel looked down between his legs, no doubt catching sight of the lace just peeking out from under his body. Dean shifted his hips, wincing as he accidentally pressed his crotch up against Castiel's ass. "Eager for something, Dean?"

"I didn't mean that," he said, feeling his face warm. "It was an accident."

"'Accidents don't just happen accidentally.'" Castiel chuckled, sounding shady.

Dean tensed, closing his eyes. He had said that to Sam two days ago. He had said it when Sam had told him he had accidentally broke Dean's iPod. He had said it in his bedroom. He was pretty sure the window had been closed and the drapes as well. Castiel shouldn't have known he said that. But he did.

"I'm tired," Dean whispered, clenching his jaw at his rough voice. "I need to sleep."

Castiel was silent for a few seconds, and Dean held his breath. "Okay," he finally said. "Let's sleep." Castiel slid off of him and stepped away. Dean opened his eyes and sat up, watching Castiel close the wooden boxes and put them back in the bag. He moved towards Dean's tall drawer chest to the left of the room, setting it on the floor beside the dark wooden dresser.

Dean didn't even bother to try to change. He turned the left nightstand light off and he pulled the left side of his queen bed down and crawled under the sheets, stretching his legs, staring at the ceiling. He heard Castiel shuffle around and then turn the other nightstand light off. The bed dipped as he sat on it. Dean heard his shoes being set down softly, pushed to the side. Castiel shifted on the bed and lay down parallel to Dean. On top of the covers.

Dean turned his head, looking at Castiel in the dark. He had taken his suspenders off, and his shoes. Everything else was still on. He looked up at Castiel's face, curious. The man looked at the ceiling, hands clasped over his stomach. Dean looked away. He turned onto his side, facing away from Castiel.

"Goodnight," Dean said quietly.

"Goodnight, Dean," Castiel replied, his eyes boring into the back of Dean's head. Dean slowly let out a breath through his mouth, closing his eyes and pretending to sleep until he finally did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Comments make me happy! <3
> 
> i haz a [tumblr](http://twxnkdean.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trash trash trash
> 
> this is so bad im really sorry

Dean groaned, snuggling into his warm pillow with a quiet huff. He slipped down further under the covers, hiding half his face under them. Fuck, he was so tired. "Dean." He tensed for a second, then realized it was just Castiel and relaxed.

"Whut?" he muttered, hugging his pillow tightly to his chest.

"May I use your laptop?" Castiel was right beside him.

"Uh-huh." Dean squirmed and turned over, still holding onto his pillow.

"Thank you," Castiel muttered, shuffling away from him. Dean opened his eyes, squinting in the dark room. There was light behind his curtains, which meant it was probably morning. He glanced at his clock. Only 6:49 AM. Dean yawned and forced himself to sit up, leaning against the headboard, too lazy to cover himself with his blanket.

Castiel picked up his laptop and walked back to the bed, sitting down on the other side and opening the top. He booted it up and waited, looking over at Dean. "Good morning," he said, glancing down at his body before returning his gaze to Dean's face.

"Mm." Dean closed his eyes and yawned, covering his mouth. "'t's early."

"Yes." Castiel sounded amused. Dean sighed and slipped back under the blankets, curling up on his side, head brushing against Castiel's thigh. He blinked his eyes open at the hesitant hand that touched his head. He rubbed his cheek on his sheets, yawning again, then closed his eyes and waited curiously. Castiel gently rubbed his scalp, running his fingers through Dean's untidy hair and messing it up more.

Dean squirmed a little, letting out a pleased noise. It felt good. Castiel pressed a little harder, scratching close to the backs of his ears. Dean heard the soft clicking of his keyboard, and sat up, curiously peering at the screen.

Castiel had hacked into something and was watching a live feed. Dean sat up a little more, making Castiel drop his hand. Castiel typed a little more on the screen and a new video popped up. There was a SWAT team and a bunch of police in uniforms and plain clothes and people with FBI vests and rain jackets. They were getting ready to storm into a house. Castiel switched the feed and the interior popped up, revealing a few men scrambling around, holding guns and looking angry and scared.

"Is that why you wanted to stay here?" Dean asked, turning his head to look at Castiel. The man was watching him, eyes squinted and dark. Dean swallowed nervously as he didn't reply. "What did you do?"

"I killed a few families," Castiel said blankly. "Does that bother you?"

"Yes," Dean said, sitting up and shuffling backwards. "Why would you do that?"

"They deserved it."

"What did they even do?" Dean stood up, pacing next to the bed. He killed a bunch of families? Men? Women? Children? Were they innocent people? Or were they guilty of something horrific? They probably didn't deserve to die. And Dean knows he killed them now, does this make him an accessory to murder?

"They killed my men," Castiel said simply.

"So you went and killed a bunch of people?" Dean was whisper-yelling now. He hoped no one woke up and heard him. Fuck. "Get out," he whispered, turning around and sinking to the floor, back pressed to the side of the bed.

"Dea-"

"Get. The. Fuck. Out." Dean curled up. Maybe Castiel would kill him too. He didn't seem to like it when Dean did anything but obey him. Dean wrapped his arms around his legs, feeling the silky material of his stockings. Damn it. He'd forgotten he still had this on.

Castiel stood up and quietly walked around the room, doing something Dean couldn't see. "Goodbye, Dean," Castiel said. He opened his bedroom door and stepped out, shutting it softly. Dean stared at the wall across from him.

Why couldn't Castiel have just killed the people that had murdered his 'men?' Why did he have to go and kill a bunch of innocents? Dean stretched his legs out, leaning his head against the bed. Why did Dean have to know a person like Castiel?

Why?

Why?

Why?

Why?

So many questions, and no answers.

* * *

Dean hummed softly, stocking the shelves with a shipment of new nails. The store was basically empty now, and it would be closing time in a few minutes. He couldn't wait to be finished.

Dean froze, looking down at the package of nails in his hand. Something cold pressed against the nape of his neck. "Stand up slowly," an unfamiliar, accented voice said quietly. "And I won't kill you." He swallowed thickly and nodded carefully. He pushed himself up to his feet, gripping the nails tightly in his hand. Dean glanced to the side, seeing a box with a few loose nails.

"Walk," the person behind him said, pushing the barrel of the gun harder into his neck. Dean winced and stepped to the side, walking down the aisle. The person reached around him and snatched the nails out of his hand, tossing them onto a shelf. He looked down at his trembling hands, blinking his eyes rapidly and swallowing and breathing heavier. God, he was scared.

The person directed him out the doors and towards a large black van. Dean watched the door open, and gasped as he was grabbed by a person inside the van. He yelped as he was dragged inside and throw against the side. His back and head ached immediately, and he curled up a little. The door slammed shut and the van began moving. Dean turned onto his hands and knees and looked over at the person that had thrown him.

He was big, and beefy. He looked like he could snap Dean in half. Literally.

Dean crawled back and tucked inside in the corner of the van, curling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. The other man settled back when he realized Dean wasn't going to fight him.

Dean closed his eyes and lowered his head to his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you enjoyed! comments make me happy <3
> 
> i haz a [tumblr](http://twxnkdean.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trashy trasherson reporting for duty!

Dean was groggy as he woke up, shivering at the cold air surrounding him. He opened his eyes but only saw black. There was something covering his eyes, and he was strapped down to a hard metal table, clothes stripped off of his body. He licked his cracked lips, mouth and throat hurting from how dry they were.

Dean tugged at the cuffs holding his arms and legs to the table, shaking his head and trying to dislodge the blindfold. Someone ripped the blindfold off. The first thing Dean saw was a bright ass light that blinded him for several seconds. He squinted around the light, looking to his right and left, below and above. There was a shadow standing at the end of the table but Dean couldn't make out anything except his build, which led him to believe this was a man.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice cracking. The man chuckled, it was soft and disturbing. He didn't say anything though, just shuffled away and opened a door, slamming it shut behind himself. Dean groaned, dropping his head back down on the table and closing his eyes. He wiggled his wrists and ankles, trying to pull his hands from the cuffs and failing. The door opened again and the same man entered, walking over to Dean and sitting down on a chair above his head.

"Do you know a man named Castiel?" the man asked, his voice light and nasally.

"Who the fuck is that?" Dean said, frowning as the light turned off. The man rolled his stool across the floor, coming to a stop next to Dean's head. The man rested his forearms on the cold metal surface of the table and leaned his head over Dean's, a wicked little smile on his face.

"Castiel," he said, "is a very bad man."

"Yeah? Go fucking tell the police then."

"The police?" The man laughed. "No, no, no. I'll just play with you. He'll come... _eventually_."

Dean swallowed nervously. "Your breath fuckin' stinks, dude," he said, fingers twitching with fear. "Eat shit for breakfast?"

"No," the man grinned. "But I'll feed you yours." Dean almost threw up. "Don't try and hold back now. It never works."

The man lifted his hand, revealing a shiny scalpel. He winked at Dean, and pressed it into the meat of his bicep.

Dean tried, but he couldn't hold back after a little while.

* * *

This guy, Al - as he liked to call himself, was the type to give you long, shallow cuts and rub salt in them. Literally. Salt. In his cuts. It fucking sucked. And that was the best part of the whole thing.

Dean was left in a daze when Al finally finished for the day. He hurt all over and his face was wet and itchy with tears and snot and drool and blood. He watched as Al cleaned up his tools, whistling some stupid tune Dean couldn't recognize. "Well," Al said, shooting Dean another grin. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Dean heard the door open, and slam shut behind Al. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to push the pain out of his mind. If he didn't try to move then it didn't really hurt so much, but he needed to get out of here.

The door opened again and Dean groaned. "Forget something, you stupid fuck?" he snapped, wincing at the sharp pain from his chest.

"No," Al said, sounding much more serious than earlier. Dean weakly lifted his head, eyes widening. Castiel stood behind Al in a navy blue suit, a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. He stared at Dean for several long and eerily quiet moments, then turned a very dark and very terrifying gaze to Al.

"Untie him," Castiel said. His voice sounding like the sweetest thing Dean's ever. Angry, but wonderful. "Now."

Al shuffled over to him, sneering down at him as he yanked at the cuffs binding Dean to the table. "Hands behind your head," Castiel said. "Step away from him." Al complied, taking several steps back. Castiel walked over to Dean, setting his knife down and leaning over the table, slipping his right hand under Dean's back and lifting him into a sitting position. It hurt so bad and his head throbbed but he was grateful.

Dean swung his legs over the side of the table, the tips of his toes just barely touching the ground. Castiel turned his gun to Al and put two bullets in his knees. "Fuck!" Al shouted, falling to the ground.

"Would you like to...?" Castiel glanced at Dean, raising an eyebrow. He looked away. "Hmm." Castiel picked up the knife, and clicked the safety on his gun, setting it on the table. He walked over to Al and- Dean could only listen to the choked screams. He picked up Castiel's gun, turning it over in his hands. It was engraved and very nice. "Let's go," Castiel said when he finished, wiping blood from his knife.

He tossed the cloth he used on the floor and folded the knife in half, tucking it in his pocket. He takes his gun from Dean's hands and stuffs it in his pants. Castiel pulled his navy blazer off to reveal white suspenders, and set it in Dean's lap. He slid an arm under his knees and another around his shoulders, adjusting his grip for a second. Then he lifted Dean off the table - and _fuck_ did it hurt, frowning a little.

"You're heavy," he said. Dean rolled his eyes and adjusted the blazer, leaning into Castiel. "Can you open the door?" Castiel asked. Dean turned the handle and pulled it open, wincing at the pain that shot through his arm. "Thank you, Dean."

"Home?" he mumbled, tucking his face in Castiel's shoulder.

"Doctor," Castiel replied, slowly walking down a very bloody hallway. "Then home."

* * *

Dean woke up in a soft, warm bed with a quiet beeping to his right. He groaned and blinked his eyes, lifting his left hand and rubbing at them. He dropped his hand and licked his lips, glancing around. It wasn't a hospital room but it certainly felt like one with the heart monitor and the IV stand. He glanced to his left and held his breath.

Castiel was curled up beside him, laying on top of the covers with his right arm tucked under his head and his knees slightly bent. He was wearing a different suit than before, a dark grey - almost black - one. Dean reached out for him, grazing his fingers against Castiel's hand. He lifted his gaze from their hands and stared at Castiel's face, pausing at the blue gaze that greeted him. "Hello, Dean," Castiel said, voice rough with sleep.

"Hi," he croaked out. Castiel sat up and reached behind him, picking up a glass of water with a straw. He reached for Dean, helping him up and letting him drink from the straw. The cool water soothes his throat but Castiel doesn't let him drink too much of it. He set the glass back on the table behind him and then slid closer to Dean, resting back down beside him. 

Neither said anything for several minutes. Dean stared and Castiel stared right back at him. "Thanks," he finally managed. Castiel didn't reply to him but his blue eyes did soften and he did reach out to pet the side of Dean's head. Dean closed his eyes and reached over to Castiel, loosely gripping the end of his backwards blue tie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! <3


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